


Cadences

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mindless Fluff, Nightmares, Present Tense, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-10
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2018-01-18 20:24:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1441678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave's bed was comfortable, but Karkat's nightmares didn't care. It irked Dave that, when everyone else was far away and unimportant, Karkat still refused to focus on him. Dave was willing to offer a little advice to keep Karkat's mind clear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cadences

**Author's Note:**

> Homestuck is too complicated for me to write anything with a comprehensive plot; therefore, I only write plotless fluff for now.

The night is perfect for sleeping.

Some summer nights are not. Dave hates sprawling on his bed during those particular nights, stifled by the syrupy air that vibrates with the buzz of tree frogs and cicadas. The smell of summer always fills his head, making his brain feel like a swampy, steaming mush.

But tonight is the most comfortable night Dave can remember.

He folds his arm on the windowsill and rests his chin on his wrists. The moon is just a pale sliver in the fluffy black sky.

 _Looks like a toenail on the living room carpet,_ Dave thinks. He blinks slowly, and the moon blurs into a soft smear. A cool breeze trails through the window and rushes back out, whisking away with it the stale scent of old nacho chips and sour socks. Dave inhales deeply and blows a sigh into the tart air. His head suddenly feels as though it's stuffed with cotton, and his eyes are prickly and heavy behind the lenses of his sunglasses.

Wearily, Dave pinches the arm of his sunglasses between his fingers and slips the frames from his face. The moonlight feels sharp as claws, cutting into his sensitive eyes. Dave grits his teeth and squints as his head pounds painfully. He steps back, clutches the filmy curtains, and yanks them together. With a soft rustle, the hems meet, snapping the light in half. The last sparkling bits of silver settle to the floor and fade.

His vision clears as the gray gradually melts from the edges, and he once again sees the trash that's spread over the bedroom floor. Shadows ooze from beneath piles of dirty clothes and snake in thin black lines around tangles of extension cords.

Dave stumbles through his room, carefully maneuvering through the clutter. His toe pops against an empty apple juice bottle and sends it skittering over the floor. Dave cringes, drawing up his shoulders defensively.

More cautiously, he makes his way through the maze of junk, guided by the tiny light that blinks from the laptop computer. The brief flashes fill the room with a calming blue glow that reminds Dave of an ocean, and he suddenly feels as though he will crumple into a heap on the floor if he doesn't crawl into bed.

He stretches his arms, gingerly groping in front of him until his fingers brush against a rumpled blanket. A relieved smile pulls over his face and a thin shudder rakes down his back. The sheets are smooth and cold against his hands; inviting on a sultry summer night.

Dave bends over, digging his finger into the back of his shoe to pull it from his foot. Carelessly, he nudges the sneakers beneath his bed, even though he knows he will most likely forget their whereabouts and madly tear through his room tomorrow to find them. The thought evaporates when Dave sinks onto the thin mattress, all his aching joints cracking gratefully. A spring creaks below Dave, but he has no will to move away from the bump that bites into his shoulder.

The air conditioner rattles and wheezes. It's an immensely soothing sound. Dave's eyes droop shut, and he curls one arm under his pillow to crush it against his cheek. He's perfectly comfortable. He wants to stay like this forever.

The very moment that fog creeps in to numb Dave's mind, a long snore saws through the calm. Dave's eyes fly open, his heart bumping into his ribs. He grips his pillow tightly, waiting. Another snort rips the silence, and Dave immediately relaxes. He lays there, considering, before rolling over heavily. He prods his finger against Karkat's back.

"Hey," he says quietly. He pokes harder. "Hey, Karkat. Shut that gaping pie-hole of yours. You snore like a pig."

Karkat's grinding snore tapers into a breathy whimper. He curls into a tighter ball, his knees tucked against his chest and his head leaning on his folded arms. Dave wonders how anyone can sleep in such a cramped, tight position.

Caught in that eerie point between sleep and consciousness, Karkat sucks in a deep breath. Sluggishly, he moves his arm over his other shoulder, as though he's hugging himself. He clenches his fingers into his forearm, his claws curving painfully through his sweater and into his skin. In the faint blue light, Dave sees how Karkat's eyes dart beneath his closed lids.

The sharp edge of Dave's annoyance melts. Relenting, he scoots closer, dropping his hand on Karkat's elbow. Dave squeezes Karkat's arm before giving him a firm shake. Karkat's head rolls back and forth over the pillow, and finally, he stirs.

"What... what do you want, you groove-kissing snotwipe?" Though intended to be harsh, Karkat's words run together in a thick, sleepy slur. He turns to groggily peer at Dave through the darkness. His eyes glow a haunting yellow, shining eerily when he moves.

"Keep it down, why don't you?" Dave's voice loses its belligerence when he says, "You were having a dream or something stupid like that. You were squirming like a desert rattlesnake in quicksand. What's up?"

Realization piles on Karkat's mind, and he slumps against the bed's headboard. Tiredly, he passes the back of his paw over his sweaty forehead.

"It's nothing that concerns you, puke-stain." His insult sounds weak and dry. His tongue moves roughly against his jagged white teeth, making his words click fast and harsh.

"Got stuff I've been pondering. Thinking about a lot. It doesn't matter, anyway. When you have things to deal with, they don't just magically get up and say, 'Oh, let me leave so you can have a good night's sleep.' They just keep kicking at that little door in your think-pan until they break it down, which is usually right when you fall asleep. And then they do a godawful jig in the middle of your head until it makes your dreams swirl around in this creepy mush, and you can't really wake up because you don't know what's going on."

Dave props himself on his elbows, his chin resting on his collarbone. He gazes distantly ahead. "That's pretty accurate, man."

"Yeah." Karkat leans back, resting his paws lightly on his stomach. "Did I wake you up?"

"Nah. I was thinking, too. Just was trying to be quiet so Bro won't do some freaky ninja stuff and suddenly materialize in here to hand our freshly roasted rears to us on a polished platter."

"Your Bro," says Karkat. His voice is a thin shaving of a whisper. "He won't do anything, will he? I mean... Well, obviously I'm equipped to fend off any ceiling-sucker that throws himself at me, but I'm not entirely at ease with the idea that he could be in one of your drawers or in the closet or something."

Dave gives a puff of a chuckle. "Naw. Don't get yourself riled. Bro's this really awesome guy, but he won't hurt you. He's cool."

Karkat looks down, his eyebrows scrunching to shade his glowing eyes. He seems pensive. Dave senses that the prospect of Bro slithering through the shadows is not what's truly disturbing Karkat.

"Look, buddy," Dave says. He moves closer, and his leg touches Karkat's. Gently, he puts his hand on Karkat's head, mashing down the unruly curls as if doing so will mash away the tension, as well.

"Shoosh," he says. Though the way Dave says it lacks that certain calming musical quality, Karkat relaxes. He closes his eyes. The collar of his sweater bunches around his chin as he goes limp.

"Go... go ahead," he says in a lagging murmur. "Give me whatever boring and useless piece of garbage advice you were going to."

"Nope," says Dave. He threads his arm beneath Karkat's neck to support him before he nods off and topples from the bed. Once he has Karkat safely settled, he says, "I got no advice, my man, other than telling you to shut those creepy little cat eyes and catch some sleep. I know you're worried about your friends, but you gotta put that aside and chill out for a while."

Karkat musters the energy to gaze at Dave. Their noses nearly touch, but Karkat only says with mild surprise slogging through his voice: "How did you know I was worrying about them?"

A smile quirks up one side of Dave's face. "I'm not a total idiot, Karkat. I can pick up on all those hints you drop, like a hungry pigeon following Hansel and Gretel's breadcrumb trail.

"You worry too much. You worry about things that probably won't happen in a billion years. Wait––scratch that. You redirect worrying energy into crabbing energy. You're wasting all that time yelling at people when you could be doing something else. And if it happens, hey––it happens. What can you do about it? Just go with it, bro. That's what I do. Be all cool and chill. It fools people into thinking you're tougher than you really are."

Karkat stubbornly turns, but finds it difficult with Dave's arm cushioning his head. He sighs. "That's pretty deep, coming from you. Like an abyss of actual sense in the land of stupidity."

"It's okay, Karkat," Dave says. He draws Karkat closer. "You can go to sleep. We'll all still be here when you wake up. Remember what happened the first time you stayed here?"

"That was just last week," Karkat says. "I felt like a walking undead bone-puppet because I hadn't been in my recuperacoon."

"Yep," Dave says, more to himself than to Karkat. "That's the old Karkat for you. Always focuses on the sunshiny aspects of life."

Ignoring Dave's wisecrack, Karkat rolls to his side, his eyes falling shut. Strangely, he feels comforted knowing that Dave is awake. Dave's arm is firm and warm around Karkat's shoulders. Though Karkat hates feeling dependent on a human such as Dave, he refuses to deny that the sensation of being held through a nightmare is relieving.

It's nice.

"Dave?" Karkat says after a while.

"What?"

"You aren't _quite_ as disgusting as everyone says."

Dave thinks about this. All suitable retorts linger beyond his grasp. Finally, he sighs.

"Go to sleep, Karkat."


End file.
